


The Winds of Change

by Yourealrightgurrrl



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Adult Content, Chapter 2: Horseshoe Overlook (Red Dead Redemption 2), Declarations Of Love, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Graphic Description, High Honor Arthur Morgan, Humor, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining, POV Second Person, Pining Arthur, Romantic Fluff, Sex, Sexual Content, Smut, You Have Been Warned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 18:22:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28853499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yourealrightgurrrl/pseuds/Yourealrightgurrrl
Summary: After a day of supply shopping in Saint Denis, you and Arthur begin the late evening ride home back to Horseshoe Overlook when you're caught in a heavy storm. Arthur knows the perfect place to wait it out, an intimate and cosy Houseboat. With nothing but time you both finally admit what has been on your minds for the last two years.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 57





	The Winds of Change

**Author's Note:**

  * For [McTagster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/McTagster/gifts), [Talkin_to_a_Lady](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talkin_to_a_Lady/gifts).



> Dedicated to two wonderful and inspiring friends who's support and patience has kept me going. Also a huge shout out to Talkin_to_a_lady for coming up with the perfect title name for this piece. Love you both.

Chapter One 

It was another chilly afternoon as you take a sip of coffee from the edge of Horseshoe Overlook. October had swept in like a wave, pushing the last remnants of summer out on its proverbial backside. Making way for the chilled bite of Autumn. The larches had begun turning shades of golden yellow, the small tear in your wolf lined jacket had become more noticeable in the colder evening air and a fresh dew had now found its way on the canvas of your tent every morning. But the rain had hit hard this year, seeing a total washout. Storms seemed to roll in at every given opportunity. You could barely begin pegging your laundry out for fear of rain and winds baring down on you. But with the rain brought an inner peace and relaxation you could never put your finger on. A strange shift of calm in you amongst the pelting rain and howling winds. The only possible explanation for this phenomenon stemmed back to your childhood. Your parents owned a flower farm in Northern Texas, fields upon fields of colour bloomed for miles. You were ten years old at the time, but you can still remember the unpredictability of the rains and the anxiousness had by your parents. No rain meant no crops, no crops meant no money. But like the build-up of pressure in a storm, the anxiousness dissipated the second the rain showered the earth. It set calm through the house like nothing else. Since then, throughout your life, rain had always given you a sense of grounding no matter where you happened to be resting your head with your appropriately named thoroughbred, Storm.

You gulp down the last swing of the bitter coffee and return the tin cup to the wash basin at Pearson’s chuck wagon, when you spot the infuriating amount of dirty dishes and cups piled high out of the water. With a sigh, you pick up the cake of soap and get to work. Looking around camp everyone seemed happy, spirits were high and folk were hopeful. Funds were healthy for the first time in a long while. The boys had just scored a nice little stage robbery a couple of days ago, you yourself had raked in a pretty penny whilst working. Bootlegging. A neat and tidy deal that saw a large, regular income into the box. All cooked up by you and some poor bastards trying to peddle their moonshine only to be robbed blind by local thugs on delivery. They knew of the gang you ran with. The highly illustrious Van Der Linde Gang. So it didn’t take much convincing to hire you on as protection on runs. You’d seen your share of fools testing the waters though, thinking they can easily rob a women driving a wagon of shine, but you barely needed to flex to instil fear once word got round of your acquaintances. It was a sweet deal, bootlegging. Three deliveries a week for half the take. It came down to fast driving, fast selling and fast shooting. All of which you had had your fair share of experience with. ‘ _You have a good head on your shoulders’_ Arthur would say _, ‘Smart and relentless’_. Exactly the reason Dutch kept you around.

 _Arthur_ , you think as you look up from the wash basin. Tilting your head slightly to catch a glimpse of him. He stands talking to Pearson, one leg resting up on the log seat by the fire as he leans into his hip, his back towards you. _‘That man’_ you sigh under your breath as you observe the pull of his jeans around the perfect curve of his backside, his blue striped shirt that works damn hard as it stretches within an inch of its life over his broad shoulders and the tone of his deep and rumbled voice as he no doubt argues with Pearson over some trivial matter. Arthur Morgan, ‘The Enforcer’. A loyal-to-a-fault, thirty-six-year-old, 6ft 1 sarcastic and sore headed unit of a man. You had both grown close over the two years since you’d been with the gang. Arthur was the only one you trusted with your life, who had become your closest friend and confidante. But a friendship like that did not come free, it saw its share of squabbling and petty arguments. But you knew deep down in the heart of that sour-faced lug, that he cared.

He taught you how to shoot straight, to break a horse and to defend yourself properly. In return you’d taught him how to work a good knife well, how to pick herbs that wouldn’t kill him and how to cleanly skin a good hide. But under all that rough and tough exterior, he had a side to him that intrigued you, a side that he hid well from others. He journaled and sketched, he was open minded and progressive, well read and like you was unequivocally private. You would take long walks together if there happened to be something on your mind and unlike a lot of men you had come across in the past, Arthur listened. You had once told him of your happy childhood, born in the Appalachian Mountains of West Virginia, before moving to Texas at seven years old, how you had a love of lavender, one of the primary flowers grew on your family farm and about your parent’s untimely death. It was hard to open up to him about your past, and he knew that. Since then, he would make a point of leaving a small bunch of lavender on your bedside table every now and again if he had come across it on his journeys.

Leaving you wondering how someone who could be so intimidating and assertive, could at the same time be a complete gentleman? And why was it that you were drawn to him so perpetually? A lot of these things you didn’t know, but one thing you knew deep in your bones was that you had fallen, completely and utterly in love with him. You had never made your feelings known to anyone, especially Arthur, to save embarrassment and the possibility of losing your closest friend. It was hard living in such close proximity to him, laying in separate tents less than 7ft away from each other every night, knowing he probably didn’t feel the same. The idea had come across your mind on an almost daily occurrence to tell him how you felt and how his presence alone was enough to comfort you for the rest of your days. But you thought better of it. Like a lovesick teenager, it kept you up at night, stopped you eating for a while too and sometimes you would undeservedly take that frustration out on him, for no reason other than the fact he happened to look a little more magnificent that day. But the thought of not knowing was better than that of rejection. You took every day as it came, hoping one day the feeling will eventually begin to fade before you realise it was nothing more than a stupid crush.

 _‘You look like you need savin’_ a voice snuck up from behind you, snapping you quickly from your daydream. Arthur looks over the sorry sight, your arms elbow deep in the filthy dish water.

 _‘Desperately’_ you sigh with relief _‘Tell me Arthur, why are folk incapable of cleanin’ up their own mess?’_

 _‘Because we’re **outlaws** ’_ he cracks sarcastically with a laugh as he turns and perches himself on the edge of the wash table, rolling himself a cigarette. _‘We ain’t got time for all this cleaning nonsense’_

_‘And I do?’_

_‘Which is exactly why….’_ he stands, the unlit cigarette hanging between his lips as he opens his arms wide boastfully _‘…I am here to save ya’_

 _‘Well, ain’t you just my knight in shinin’ armour?’_ you laugh, looking him up and down

 _‘Fine’_ he smiles sarcastically, walking away ‘ _I see how it is. I’ll go ask someone else’_

 _‘Arthur!’_ you hiss _‘Don’t you dare leave me elbow deep in this shit! Come back an tell me what it was you wanted, please?’_

He smirks at your desperation, walking back to you before lighting the cigarette _‘Now ya need me huh?’_

You roll your eyes _‘Always’_

 _‘Pearson’s asked me to pick up some supplies. Nothing too strenuous. But I’ve had a few item requests from others and Valentine ain’t gonna cut it. Thinkin’ of heading to Saint Denis. Should be able to pick it all up there no problem. It’s a long ride though an I need someone with me who don’t get under my skin. You ain’t bootlegging tonight again are ya?’_ He asks, dragging on his cigarette.

_‘No, no I’m free tonight’_

_‘Good. Listen, while we’re on the subject, I wish you wouldn’t do that on your own’_ he continues. _‘Let me come along next time?’_

 _‘What, so you can run point then take half my share? I don’t think so’_ you laugh _‘I know your game Morgan. I can hold my own’_

_‘I know you can, I know. It ain’t about the money Y/N. Just worry about ya is all’._

It didn’t take you long to gather your satchel and make a quick change of clothes, a white blouse, your trusty wolf lined leather jacket, a pair of tight-fitting riding pants, your hat and a decent pair of lace up boots. Something light and comfortable for the long ride. You make sure Storm is set for the journey, brushing her silver dapple coat down before laying the heavy saddle over her back.

‘ _Miss Y/N?’_ Grimshaw’s shrill voice crawls down your spine. You turn to greet her before she pulls you to one side, looking around for prying eyes and ears before bundling a scrunched-up piece of paper in your hand and whispering…

_‘I sent away for this; it’ll be at Madame De La Roche’s Parlour in Saint Denis. I don’t trust non of the boys to collect it, so could you?’_

You smile and agree, walking back to your tent to make a note of the item requests before opening the ripped out section of catalogue **‘Isbell Corset – A classic design boasting a straight neckline, busk fastening and genuine whalebone-‘** You read enough as you stuff the paper down into your back pocket and shudder. _‘Since when am I collecting Grimshaw’s under garments?’_ You sigh, sitting on your bed as you begin scribbling down the shopping list on a scrap of paper when something catches your eye, blocking the daylight and casting a shadow over the pencil and paper in your hands. Arthurs bold frame leans against the opening of your tent, his thumbs hooked into the gold buckle of his gun belt, a fresh cigarette hanging from his lips, the shine of his tan leather jacket catching the sunlight. Butterflies dance around your tummy as his bright green eyes and small smile beam at you from under the brim of his hat.

_‘You ready to go?’_

_‘Almost’_ you smile, returning to the list _‘Bill’s pomade, Lenny’s book, another book for Mary-Beth, Dutch’s cigars, Pearson’s stock and Grimshaw’s underwear_!’ You underline twice.

‘ _What’s that there?’_ Arthur points to the bold writing on the list

‘ _Believe me Arthur, you’re best not knowing’_

** Chapter Two **

The smell was almost unbearable. How do people live in cities like this? The smog was enough to choke you out. The noise from factories churning out whatever it was they were producing was incessant. People living on top of one another like rats. It wasn’t anyway to live. Tilly and Mary-Beth loved the city, they spend most of their chore time talking about it, how brilliant it would be to have a fine, rich husband here. To live a life where you didn’t need to rob to get by. We all wanted that, you most of all but you had a smart and realistic head on your shoulders. A life lead by unattainable ideals, petty class systems and unbelievable snobbery was to you, a fate worse than death. A small cabin somewhere out west is what you had always dreamed of, West Elizabeth perhaps? Somewhere you could one day raise a family, live off the land and find peace and safety. Away from the sticky fingers of civilisation. It seemed like a silly dream but it was one you clung to dearly. Unlike most of the gang you had not been born into crime. Outlawing was supposed to be a temporary solution, to make enough money to move on and set up alone if need be. Truth is, you had the money, you hit target back in July. There had been mornings you had packed your bags to be gone before the sun rose and people realised, but you stopped short every time when you saw Arthur’s tent. He was the one reason for staying and the only person worth sacrificing your dream a little longer for. 

You and Arthur spend most of the afternoon shopping around picking up ammunition, food and the requests from the gang. You took your time wondering the streets, stopping to look in the windows of all the fine dress stores while Arthur paid a visit to the barber. Admiring the workmanship of the dresses and the high protruding bustles that you could have balanced a tray off. Sure, they looked beautiful, the colours, fabrics and stitching came together like a work of art but It was beyond you how women would be willing to put themselves through such misery to obtain a certain shape. Thankfully you rode horses, so having to strap yourself into one of those contraptions was never an option. You imagine for a moment what Arthur would say if he ever saw you wearing one. Would he stop dead in his tracks? Or would he say you just looked ridiculous? The not knowing was almost worth running into that shop and parting with your hard-earned money. Now you began to understand why women dressed themselves in them and paraded themselves around like a cattle market.

You walk a little way down the street when you’re met with Madame De La Roche’s Parlour. It was not hard to miss with her name painted gold and black, embossed into mirrored glass using the finest of cursive lettering. The establishment was small however the store front was as boastful and pretentious as its owner’s name, shaped steel beams and coloured glass panels ran the height of the store front as did the velvet curtains that sat behind them. Its curved glass roof reminded you of a summerhouse, one that had been lifted from a baronesses’ garden and wedged between two tall and seemingly tasteless buildings. A spec of femininity and beauty in an otherwise dull and uninspiring city. How did ole Grimshaw find this place anyhow?

Before walking in you feel the need to check yourself, brushing off your black leather jacket, and shaking your hat of the dust from the trail. Quickly gathering your hair and tying it in a loose ponytail over your shoulder. The bell above the door rings as you step foot inside. If it was possible, the interior was even more ostentatious as the exterior. Gold pendant light fittings and wicker fans dangle from the glass ceiling, thick shag rugs line the floor, green and blooming tropical plants hang from all corners of the parlour. Between the dark green painted walls were bold tapestries of silk, depicting scenes from a jungle. Tigers, leopards, palm trees and brightly coloured flowers. The shop was exotic, like you had suddenly stepped into one of Jack’s story books based in the Brazilian Amazon. Among the beautiful interior were displays of unusual but ornate under garments, corsets, bustier’s, pantaloon’s and bloomers you had never before seen the likes of. In every colour imaginable. You’d never seen as much lace in all your life. A couple of elegantly dressed patrons peruse the displays. You take a second to admire the ornate under garments as you feel the eyes of the other patrons on you. The judgement was overwhelming, upturned noses and snotty attitudes, their eyes could have bored holes into the back of your skull as they watched you like a hawk, gliding your fingers over the silk fabric of the trussed-up mannequins.

 _‘Bonjour!’_ A loud and eccentric voice spills out from behind the counter

 _‘Welcome to Madame De La Roche’s Lingerie Parlour. I am Madame De La Roche’._ Introducing herself like she was someone you were supposed to know, when she quickly drags her eyes over you _‘Well, aren’t you a sorry sight! Come in, peruse, look, admire, but do not touch’_

Jesus, say what you want about country folk but at least you’re made to feel welcome. Was this what shopping was supposed to feel like? Like you aren’t good enough? You shake the thought and get on with what brought you to the exotic establishment in the first place. Removing Grimshaw’s scrunched-up request from your back pocket, you make your way to the counter and to Madame De La Roche’s deathly stare.

‘ _I have an order needs collectin?’_

‘Oh’ the seamstresses face changed, raising an eyebrow, taken back by the idea YOU could possibly have any affiliation with her store. You show her the piece of paper, before you can say a word she whips away behind the curtain at the back of the counter. She’s gone a good minute before returning with a box, ‘ _Mrs Kilgore?_ ’. You hold back a snigger at the name Strauss picked for an alias. The seamstress places the box onto the counter between you and begins pulling the tissue paper away from around Grimshaw’s newly purchased under garments.

‘ _No_ _no!…Its ok…I don’t need to see’_ you stutter from embarrassment as she stops

_‘Its for my err…..Ma. I’m just collecting’_

_‘Oh. Fine. Well, what can I do for you?’_

_‘Excuse me?’_

_‘You seemed quite taken with our drawers and bloomers display’_

You blush from embarrassment, ‘ _Well, I wasn’t planning on-‘_

 _‘-We have something a little more to your taste in the catalogue dear’_ she interrupts before sliding the Wheeler Rawson catalogue across the counter. You open it and flick through the selection of under garments, the typical corsets, the long-legged pantaloons.

‘ _Why ain’t these as pretty as them?’_ you point to one of the display’s

She taps the catalogue _‘These are for women on, shall we say, a limited budget_ _Chère’_

‘ _Excuse me? I have money’_ you state, offended slightly

‘ _Well, pardon!’_ she exclaims in a terribly fake French accent _‘It’s not every day I get one of your kind in here’_

_‘My kind?’_

_‘You know…Country folk’_ Madame De La Roche steps out from behind the counter, walking around you like a wolf ready to pounce on its prey _‘Well look at you, you look like you’ve just rolled in from the plains_ ’ she says, casually beating your arm until the dust from your jacket gathers in a cloud around you.

’You cant tell me a women like you has never craved a little…..sensualité?

‘I cant say I’ve thought about it-‘ you reply nervously as you hear a giggle from a one of the snooty customers.

‘Pah! We’re all female darling. Come with me’

The truth is, you had thought about it. You were well aware of the fact you had nobody to wear beautiful lingerie for, you didn’t need Madame what-ever-her-name was to remind you of that. But it must feel good to wear it surly? And what’s wrong with just a little self-indulgence? Nobody else ever has to know. And If Grimshaw of all people could, then why couldn’t you? You think on this for a second, and to when it was you last had a little luxury in your life. Hell, your hard-earned money wasn’t going on a home anytime soon so why not treat yourself.

She leads you through to the back of the parlour and seemingly out of nowhere, pulls a large red velvet curtain across behind you that seems to separate the shop in two, and away from the judgement and wondering eyes of the other customers. Like you were to be planning and scheming behind its thick opaque shroud. It seemed it was taboo for even women to shop for their own under garments. She spends time showing you a hand full of exotic and highly ambitious bloomers and pantaloons.

‘ _Pantaloons are okay, but they seem to wrap themselves around my legs when I ride and-’_

 _‘-Are you regularly seen in…’_ she looks you up and down, almost disgusted _‘…trousers, like that?’_

_‘Well, I ride a lot of horses’_

_‘I’m sure you do’_ she pulls her face trying her best to resemble a smile _‘I may have something but, it may be a little progressive for someone such as yourself’_

She swans off into the back again before you had time to respond. If she wasn’t such an old battle-axe you’d have slapped that pompous look from her face long before now. You had no idea why you were entertaining her. Curiosity perhaps? Or for the chance to feel like a women for the first time in a long time? But I guess if you wanted out of the shop so much you’d have already left.

 _‘These are new and **very** exclusive’ _she swoons slightly as she swings out from behind the curtain. Placing the box onto the table between you, she makes a quick check over her shoulder for any on lookers. Peeling back the cardboard lid, she unwraps the garment from the tissue paper as you stand waiting like an excited child on Christmas morning. Lifting them from the box she lays them out on the table between you. The colour struck you first, a deep, dark shade of burgundy. A beautiful and feminine colour. Slightly high waisted, but instead of the frilled edging and longer length of other bloomers, these were thin silk and cut off high at the bottom of the buttocks.

 _‘I didn’t know they made bloomers this short’_ you whisper for fear of anyone seeing you next to the indecorous item.

 _‘They don’t’_ she smiled with reserved excitement _‘They’re French, just in this morning, and are not currently in demand over here. Just yet’_ she winks _‘They’re made from the finest silk, hand stitched with cream lace panelling to the sides of the thighs for comfort and air circulation’_

Your cheeks almost turn the same shade as the bloomers as she continues. As much as that tiny pair of undergarments intimidated you, you also weren’t prepared to leave the shop without them. They were beautiful, feminine and unlike anything you’d seen before. They barely covered anything, cut above the thighs and below the buttocks, the silk was smooth as you ran the tips of your fingers over the fabric. Much softer than the basic cotton bloomers you were used to. 

_‘I can assure you, your husband would most definitely approve’_.

You stop yourself before correcting her, she would probably whip them away, never to be seen again if she knew you were husbandless.

‘How much?’

‘Twenty Dollars’

‘Twenty dollars!?’ you almost choke on your tongue ‘For bloomers?!’

 _‘These are not ‘bloomers’_ she mocks ‘ _They are a fine item of lingerie. I can assure you mam, you will not find anything of this calibre anywhere else’_

_‘I should hope not for that price!……Can I wear em out?’_

** Chapter Three **

You leave the exciting little establishment and secure Grimshaw’s package safely under the bedroll of your saddle before adjusting yourself subtlety. Yes, you had given into temptation and just paid a small fortune for a pair of damned bloomers, but as expensive as they were, my god they felt light as a feather and as soft as one too. For the first time in a long time, you felt attractive and dare you think it, sexy. It felt great to wear something feminine and beautiful under the dusty riding pants and gun belt you wore on a daily basis. Something a little special just for you, that nobody would ever know about. It wasn’t natural for underwear to feel this good. Thank you, Madame De La Roche!

Pulling yourself into the saddle you walk Storm to the spot in the park you had arranged to meet Arthur. The streets were teeming with folk, dressed up, suited and booted. To go where you wonder? What required everybody to be trussed up like a turkey on thanksgiving? It was a world away from the one you knew and thankfully so. You hitch Storm next to Arthurs horse and make your way into the park, almost tripping over the gardeners on their knees trying desperately to revive the last of the fuchsia bushes from the cold bite of autumn. On approach you spot Arthur leaning back into a park bench, his hat laid on the seat next to him as he observed the world passing him by. Arthur had always hated the city, more than you if it were possible. But he looked peaceful and content as he scribbled into his journal. His fresh hair cut caused that stir of butterflies in your stomach again, his long beard had been trimmed and groomed down, accentuating that perfect jawline. His left parted hair that used to almost touch his shoulders had been cut shorter, but not short enough that those small strands of hair that fell over his temples had disappeared. As usual, Arthur Morgan looked breath-taking.

‘ _What took you so long?’_ Arthur asks, snapping his journal shut in one hand and slipping it into his satchel

_‘Sorry, I got tied up getting Grimshaw’s stuff-_

_‘-Any trouble?’_ He asks, trigger-fingered

 _‘No just pushy saleswomen’_ you digress _‘Hair looks good by the way. Real handsome’_

‘ _Handsome? Don’t make me laugh’_ he smiles sarcastically, shaking his head as he climbed into his saddle, steering his horse in your direction. For a man who was indeed handsome, he was also completely oblivious to it. Your horses walk side by side as you make your way through the streets when something delicious wafts its way under your nostrils. A rumble ached in your stomach and your mouth salivated at the smell.

_‘Dunno ‘bout you Arthur but I’m starved’_

_‘Yeah, I could eat a horse’_

_We should eat now before heading back’_

_‘As long as it ain’t stew’_ he grumbles ‘ _I might just kill someone if I see one more sorry bowl of stew’_

You stop off at The Jade Dragon Restaurant in the Asian quarter of Saint Denis after exhausting every other option and with much deliberation and convincing on Arthur’s part. Telling him ‘ _He needed to try new things’_ and that ‘ _you might actually like it’_. But you knew this was going to be a bad idea the second he turned his face up at the stick-like cutlery laid on the table. Stabbing it into his duck dish like it was still alive and dancing round his plate. It wasn’t long before the waiter came over, appalled at Arthurs efforts and began yelling at him in Chinese. You couldn’t help but keel over with laughter as the waiter began forcing the chop sticks correctly into his hand. Of course, Arthur being Arthur yelled back out of frustration and embarrassment when he couldn’t get the swing of it. It was an interesting dining experience and a hilarious one. 

** Chapter Four **

The sun had almost set as you both leave Saint Denis. You’d left it far too late; eating, laughing and bantering into the evening until the staff threw you both out at closing time. It wouldn’t be at least another 3-4 hours until you were back at camp now. Riding back, you both laughed and joked about your day, to the pompous cretins that populate Saint Denis to the drunk in the barbers who Arthur said, passed out whilst climbing down from the chair and The Jade Dragon debacle. 

_‘You…you were proddin’ at that meat like it owed you money’_ you struggle to breath through laughing.

 _‘Well, how is anyone supposed to eat with damn sticks? Didn’t help with that waiter man shouting at me neither’_ he huffs 

_‘Didn’t stop you finishing your plate though’_ you smirk

 _‘It was good! Ain’t never had duck cooked like that before’_ he smirks, cleaning out his tooth with the nail of his pinkie finger.

Saint Denis was at least an hour behind you as you rode through the bayou. Its creaking trees and cricket chirping swamps were chilly in the autumn. The dying light of the sky was beautiful as it shone hues of purple and pink through the fog and over the murky waters. You were just passing through Lagras when you notice a change in the wind, the noise from the nearby trees, shaking their leaves in the breeze had grown noticeably louder.

 _‘You see them clouds?’_ Arthur points to the sky. _‘Storms comin in’_

_‘You think we’ll have enough time to make it back to camp?’_

_‘I Doubt it, s’long way back to Horseshoe from here. That looks like its gonna drop any minute’_

You both continue to ride, digging your spurs into your mares and riding hastily through the Bayou. Minutes later, just as he had predicted the storm was over you. Thick black clouds lingered over head, the moonlight now blocked by a sheet of darkness that had been spread across the sky when you start to feel the patter of rain against your face.

 _‘Ah shit’_ Arthur mumbles under his breath, wiping the rain from his face as he pulls his reigns to a stop.

 _‘What we stopping for? We not gonna try an keep goin?’_ you holler over the wind

 _‘Ain’t no way we are gonna get through this rain n with the wind too it’ll make it near impossible to see straight, best we set up camp somewhere close til this dies down’_ Arthur turns his horse in front of you, pulling the reigns round as he directs his horse off the road. ' _Follow me, I know a place not far where we can wait it out’._

You do as ordered and follow on, agreeing against the idea of trying to make it back to the Heartlands from here. The quick shower you had hoped for had swept in more like a hurricane. The wind and rain pelted your back so hard you though you’d find holes in your jacket come the morning.

 _‘Now…this place, it ain’t much, don’t go expectin’ some fine old, abandoned house’_ he shouts.

_‘Arthur, if its warm and dry I don’t quiet care where were goin’_

Ten minutes later you come to a stop outside a boat, hitched up against the muddy and waterlogged shore. You look over the wooden vessel, it was small, a fishing boat maybe? A humble upper deck perched itself above the cabin with a large canvas sheet, mimicking some makeshift veranda that held on for dear life as it whipped and blew in the wind. Fishing poles resting against the hull almost blown into the murky lake that surrounds the boat and the pirate-esque wooden plank that connected it to the shore.

 _‘Here it is…I told you it ain’t much, but it’ll do ‘til this storm passes. It’s got something special about it I think you’d like’_

You look the boat over quizzically, _‘It seems…erm….cosy’_

 _‘Shut up’_ he smiles back sarcastically before dismounting his horse. Throwing the reigns over her head and handing them to you _‘Just…wait here alright?’_

Arthur walks along a plank of wood connecting the boat to the shore like a tight rope, pulling the collar of his leather jacket up under his chin as the rain continues to beat down. Jumping down into the boat quietly he sneaks towards the cabin door and pulls his Cattleman from his side. He leans into the door slightly, listening for voices or signs of movement before slowly continuing inside.

The rain hits hard as you sit waiting on your horse, Lucie’s reigns grasped tightly in your hand, praying a crack of thunder won’t break through the sky and cause her to bolt, taking you with her. You sit patiently, arms crossed leaning forward on the saddles horn, your feet tucked neatly in the stirrups, your hat thoroughly drenched as its brim drips with water. A shudder ripples over you as you temperature drops.

 _‘Come on Arthur’_ you sigh under your breath

You take another look over the boat, its small, the thought of you and Arthur being cooped up in there together was exciting but nerve wracking. All night? You’d never both stayed away from camp together, except when working and two or three of the other boys would tag along. Maybe tonight could finally be your opportunity to tell him how you feel?

The cabin door suddenly swings open, jerking your head up you see Arthur waving you over as he holsters his gun.

_‘Coasts clear, come on Y/N’_

** Chapter Five **

Hitching both yours and Arthurs horses to a nearby tree, you move to step onto the shaky wooden plank. Arthur offers you his hand to help guide you across. The warmth of his palm catches you off guard. His touch alone making you blush.

 _‘Thank you, Mr Morgan’_ you smile, stepping down into the boat

 _‘You’re welcome, now get inside before we both freeze’_. Entering your met with warmth, not a lot but more than the dank and chilling temperature outside. Looking around the cabin you notice fishing nets hung from the ceiling, a sink and mirror unit with an old wooden chair, a writing desk, a tall bed in the far corner, and a stove. You double take. A goddamn stove! Beyond freezing you run to it and throw open the hatch. One tiny ember lay glowing bright among a pile of white ash.

 _‘Looks like these people been gone a while’_ you observe

 _‘No ones comin’ back here t’night. You gotta be thick as pig shit to go out in this weather’_ he chuckles as you throw in a generous handful of kindling into the stoves belly. The tiny ember catching and slowly blackening the fresh wood.

Arthur spares no time in lighting a nearby lantern before shaking out his rain-soaked arms. You look back at him fumbling adorably, throwing his satchel down in a huff and trying to get his drenched leather jacket off from where it had clung around his arms before hanging it on the back of the door. He removes his hat, giving it a firm swat with his wrist, whipping it through the air to get the rain off then tosses it on the back corner of the wooden chair. Leaving Arthur in his blue striped shirt that’s dewy fibres hugged his chest, stomach and shoulders tighter than a Boa’s constrictors grip. You whipped your head back to the attention of the stove before he caught you staring, it felt wrong to look at him while he looked like that, inappropriate almost, like you’d walked in on him changing. But oh how you longed to gaze and take in a second of the glorious sight. With a shake to his hair, Arthur runs a hand through it combing his tawny locks back out of his face, finally free of the heavy hat. All except for two small strands of hair that settle back over each of his temples. The ones that always seemed to move with the wind on stormy days like today and for some unknown reason you had found yourself dreaming of running your own fingers through.

You’re attention shifts suddenly as you discover a phonograph sat on top of the desk, standing proud like a trophy its large silver horn protrudes outward, reflecting the candlelight. Music was the one part of your old life you missed more than you could imagine. You had longed to hear your own Edison phonograph again with the small collection of cylinders you kept. Mainly old timey tunes that reminded you of home in West Virginia. Being raised in the Appalachian Mountains had come with a happy childhood filled with dancing and singing along to the local back porch musicians, neighbours of all colours and creeds that came together on a different porch every night to play into the small hours of the morning. But sadly, that phonograph was yet another thing you had to leave behind when everything went south.

_‘You found us a cosy spot AND its got a phonograph?’_

_‘I remember you sayin’ how much you missed your old one’_ he smiles softly

_‘It looks just like my old Edison’_

Arthur leans into you a little _‘I can steal it for ya, if ya like?’_

 _‘Hmm, as much as I’d appreciate the sentiment, we best not if you wanna keep comin’ back here’_ you laugh _. ‘How did you find this place anyway?’_

_‘I passed through here a few months ago, cutting up through the bayou’_

_‘By passing through, you mean chased by the law right?’_ you tease

_‘No, smartass’ he smirks ‘It’s quiet and it don’t draw attention. No one knows ‘bout this place besides me n whoever owns the thing’_

_‘And no body’s ever just walked back in here and found you?’_

_‘Nahh, seen people here during the day but by night it gets abandoned. Don’t worry, ain’t no body gonna know we was here’_

Making your way to the phonograph you peel off the wet jacket from around your shoulders, a blink of an eye and you would have missed it, Arthurs eyes quickly glance your way before looking to the floor and rubbing the back of his neck almost nervously. A small smile grows in the corner of your mouth as you turn to hang your jacket on the back of the chair. Maybe he didn’t mean to look, you begin to doubt. You have already convinced yourself a hundred times that he couldn’t possibly feel anything for you. You’re friends, close friends and that’s it. That’s all it has been and all it ever will be. He doesn’t see anyone in the gang as more than anything other than family, so why would it be any different for you?

The lantern and stove had quickly begun to heat the cosy room, the sound of the rain hitting against the wooden shell of the cabin had brought with it that calmness in you. As much as you loved the sound of rain, it wasn’t everyday you were in the presence of a phonograph. Bending down, you look over it with curiosity, fiddling with it to get it to turn on. Realising the attention it might bring by playing it, you quickly turn to Arthur, making himself comfortable as he perches himself on the edge of the adjacent bed.

 _‘Can i?’_ you ask with curiosity itching away at you

_‘Go ahead’_

Like muscle memory, you replace the cylinder and drop its needle when the horn softly starts to play. The song was slow, music that calmed and soothed. Debussy if you had to put your finger on it. Classical and calming, its soft piano tones warm you like a whiskey on a cold evening, with a hint of romance woven into the very sound that spilt from the phonographs horn. The boats owner had good taste.

Arthurs eyes are drawn to you as you begin to subtly sway, the muscles in his shoulders relax and drop as he takes in the sight. A small smile pulls at the corner of his mouth as his eyes follow your body moving gently from side to side.

Tonight feels right, to finally tell him how you feel. He’s probably going to laugh at you or tell you to get over it because it wont ever happen. What are you saying? He is not an asshole, he’d probably let you down in the kindest of ways without trying to hurt you and you know it. But with the feelings you’d had for him eating away at you for years, you felt this was finally the right time. To do what, you didn’t know but just to get this feeling out once and for all. You knew all too well that burning feeling of regret if you didn’t. The feeling that has plagued your sleepless nights these past two years, the missed opportunities, the wrong timing or just plain nervousness. You never had a moment to yourselves at camp and on a job was never a good time or place, nor had you ever found yourselves alone and stuck somewhere as private and intimate as this. You turn to face Arthur, his eyes drag up the length of your body from your feet to your eyes, examining every movement and sway. He’s never looked at you the way he is right now, his eyes soft, his smile proud almost, like the way you’d found yourself staring at him when he wasn’t looking. Something inside you shifted, a streak of confidence that you’d regret if you didn’t act on.

_‘You just gonna let me dance on my own?’_

_‘Dance? Me? Nahh I ain’t good at that sorta thing’_ he blushes as his hand rubs at the back of his neck. You know that body language of his anywhere. He’s nervous, almost as nervous as you.

 _‘But_ _I’ve seen you dance with the other girls at camp’_

 _‘_ _That’s different’_

 _‘_ _How?’_

 _‘It just is’_ With his tight-lipped response Arthur looks to the floor unsure of himself. Something inside of you pushes you forward with a shove.

 _‘Well, I think its bout time I got a turn’_ you state, reaching for his hand and pulling him up off the bed _‘I wanna see what all the fuss is about’_

‘ _But this ain’t exactly jovial music’_

_‘You can slow dance though can’t ya?’_

_‘It’s been a good few years’_ he chuckles as he stops before you. His broad shoulders almost the width of the cabin.

‘ _OK well, lets see how much you remember?’_

His sturdy and large frame moves slowly, awkwardly, almost scared to touch you, his breathing hitches nervously as he goes to rest his palm against your waist. Taking your hand in his.

_‘Closer’_

_‘What?!’_ his head whips up

 _‘Come closer, I don’t bite’_ you place your hand gently on his right arm. You knew Arthur had muscle but the sheer size of the bicep that almost bulged under the damp and tight cotton shirt almost caused a small inaudible noise to slip from your throat. He feels solid, sturdy and safe. You notice his hand hovering from your waist.

_‘You gotta actually hold me, Arthur’_

_‘Sorry’_ he utters nervously as he repositions his hand, pressing his palm to the side of your waist. Arthurs breath shortens as he feels your body press to his.

‘ _You seem so square n tense’_

 _‘I do?’_ he looks over himself, anxiously shuffling his feet

 _‘Yeah, you gotta learn to relax a lil. Here…’_ you smile as you shimmy a little closer into him _‘Its ok to not be ‘’The Enforcer’’ all the time’_ you chuckle

‘ _Guess I could do with takin’ a night off huh?’_

 _‘You could’_ you smile up at him _‘I don’t know who I’m trying to fool, I got all the grace and decorum of an overturned bookcase’_

Arthur lets out a loud bark of a laugh, one so loud it echoes and bounces around the small cabin. ‘ _You ain’t no overturned bookcase’_ he laughs _‘You got a way about you’_

_‘A good way I hope?’_

‘ _One of the best’_ he smiles as he pulls you in a little closer _‘I like that you don’t try n put on airs n graces_. _Be all…..’_ he struggles to find the correct word _‘Proper…I guess. I like that you are who you are n don’t give a shit what anyone else thinks’_

 _‘Life’s too short to worry about what other people think all the time. Except the ones that matter’_ you look up at him. Feeling you’re getting ahead of yourself you dial it back a little.

 _‘But I can too be proper when the occasion calls for it, you ass’_ you smirk giving a minuscule shove to his arm

 _‘S’what I mean. You got this way about ya’_ he parts from you slightly to look over you _‘You ain’t all gung-ho’ but you ain’t a push over neither. You’re the perfect women’_ he smiles to himself

 _‘Perfect?’_ You raise an eyebrow _‘I ain’t ever been called perfect before’_

** Chapter Six **

The music softly plays as Arthur slowly moves you back and forth. Dancing toe to toe as your hips sway together in perfect sync, like you had both been doing this for years. His entire body relaxes as a hand moves to the small of your back with growing poise, pulling you closer before resting his cheek to your head. He’s warm and comforting like you had returned to a lover’s embrace after the longest time. Without hesitation he takes your hand and gently holds it palm flat to his chest. A small heat builds up inside you, you’ve wanted this for so long, you couldn’t remember a time you hadn’t found yourself dreaming about his touch, aching for it with every fibre of your being.

 _‘This feels really good’_ you whisper

 _‘It does’_ he smiles _‘Makes me wish I had someone of my own to do this with’_

 _‘Me too. But it’s a pretty dream though, ain’t it?’_ you look up to him with uncertainty. That ever-present voice in the back of your mind telling you, you aren’t good enough. Your fingers curl into his shirt, your grip tightening softly in protest against your own negativity, scared to death of ever having to let him go. You close your eyes and concentrate, taking in every moment before it all comes to an inevitable and wistful end, like any precious moments with Arthur always did. The smell of tobacco and wood smoke on his shirt, the way strands of his hair fell and softly brushed against your cheek, how effortlessly your seemingly small hands were gathered within his broad palms, the feel of his cotton shirt and his thumping heartbeat under your fingertips.

 _‘Wanna know why dancin’ with them other women was different?’_ Arthur whispers

 _‘_ _Cus none of them were you’_ his lagoon-green eyes stare deeply into yours _‘_ _n I ain’t never danced with them the way I wanted to dance with you’_ he pulls you in closer _‘Like this’._

Your breath catches in your throat, taken back completely. He must have had a swig of liquor in Saint Denis when you weren’t looking; he always gets like this with a little pot-valiance.

 _‘_ _Quit it Arthur, you drunk or something?_ ’ you ask, stopping your swaying bodies as he still holds you in his embrace.

 _‘_ _You seen me take a drink?’_

_‘Well…..no….but-’_

_‘-But nothin’_ He cuts in, gazing into your eyes like he had never felt as confident and resolute within himself until this moment _‘I’ve been wantin’ to tell you somethin’ for a long time Y/N…. I….er…..”_

_‘What is it Arthur?’_

_His confidence waivers as he pauses for a moment, bringing his hand to rub the back of his neck. You begin to worry._

_‘Here goes nothin.’_ he exhales.

_‘I’m in love with you’._

A small cautious smile tugs at the corner of your mouth as you wait for the crappy punchline. There is no way he has been pining for you like you had for him these past few years. This had to be a joke. It HAD to be. But he ain’t laughing. You know Arthur better than any other person in your life and you know when to take him seriously and when not to. But this, you slowly come to realise with his unwavering stare and resolute posture, this is one of those times. Your breathing heavies suddenly breathless with excitement, nervousness, fear, hell you didn’t know what you were feeling. You take a step back, finding yourself pulling out of his arms and raising a palm to your chest as if it would somehow help you to breath. With your jaw almost to the floor you stare at him in utter bewilderment.

_‘W……? But…….you….you could have your pick of any girl?’_

_‘I don’t want any girl. I want you’_

_‘But….Arthur, It’s me?’_

_‘I know it’s you’_ he smiles, sweeping a loose strand of hair behind your ear

_‘But I’m mouthy, I……I cuss, I’m stubborn as hell, I’m-‘_

_‘-You’re also kind-hearted and loyal. You’re the best women I know, have known and well…’_ he ducks his head out of nervousness before bringing himself to look into your eyes _‘…I hope you don’t mind me sayin so Y/N but you’re ‘bout the most beautiful women I’ve ever laid my eyes on’_

Your heart sores. After all this time he liked you, no LOVED you too!? You had never known he felt this way, he liked you of course but you always assumed it was just as a friend. Hearing it from Arthur himself knowing how hard it must have been for him to tell you, nearly sent your head spinning. You open your mouth to finally reciprocate your feelings when he steps closer to you. Expecting you to list off another handful of reasons for him not to be with you.

 _‘Why is it you think you don’t deserve someone? Huh? Someone who would look after ya?’_ he asks as he gathers your hands in his _‘Someone who would love you like none of them other fools ever did? You think you’re this lost cause but, the truth is you ain’t. I’ve seen you push people away an I know it’s cus you’re scared to trust anyone again. Listen, you are the one person I trust most in the world an…’_

_‘You are too’ you break, placing a palm to his chest as you feel tears in your eyes begin to well._

_‘That trust, that friendship we have, has only ever brought me closer to ya and I’m sorry, it shouldn’t of, but it has. I ride out sometimes, try n clear my head? But no matter how far I go, you’re with me. From the first moment I saw you I felt something inside me that kicked like a mule an it ain’t never stopped. I’ve tried fighting it but truth is, I ain’t got fight left in me no more’_ His hand cups your cheek delicately _‘When I need t’ talk, you listen an always without judgement. You tell me when I’m right n you call me out when I’m wrong. Hell, you know me better than I know myself’_ he smiles, sweeping the hair behind your ear again _‘I only want to love you n take care of you. I wanna be the one at your beck n call and the one who puts that beautiful smile on your face every day._ _No one_ _holds a candle to you my darlin’_

A tear runs down your cheek as he wipes it away with his thumb _‘Arthur….I’_

 _‘What is it?’_ he whispers, placing a kiss to the top of your hand, nervously awaiting your response.

_‘The last thing I want is for you to be sorry. I love you too.’_

‘ _You do?’_ he breaks, his face softens unable to believe the words of truth you were finally able to speak.

_‘I always have. I’ve tried shuttin’ it away an pretending that I don’t because I was scared to death of losing what we have but…’_

_‘-Me too’_

_‘-But I do Arthur. God, I’ve loved you for so long I can’t imagine a day without you in it. I just can’t believe you’d have feelin’s for me?’_ you smile, wiping the tears from your cheeks.

‘ _How can I not when you’re all I think about?’_ Arthur breathes a sigh of happiness, a weight visibly lifts from his shoulders as he brings his forehead to meet yours, wearing the biggest of smiles across his face. For the first time in a long time Arthur is truly happy. With closed eyes he gently strokes the edges of your nose with his in a loving caress.

 _‘Can I kiss you?’_

You look up into those beautiful green eyes and fall into each other. Arthur’s soft lips work with yours in perfect sync as he kisses you slow, an exchange of open-mouthed kisses, your tongues meet as he makes it a rite of passage to explore your mouth with his tongue. His lips were just as you had imagined all these years, so incredibly soft. His short beard which always looked coarse to the touch was thick and soft as silk. Arthur cups your cheek, drinking from you like a man parched. His warm breath catches in your mouth as you feel yourself growing dizzy with desire.

 _‘You have…..no idea…...how long…. I’ve wanted to do this’_ he rumbles deeply between kisses. Kneading your waist and pulling you into him as you feel a growing heat between your legs. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears as his tongue curls around yours. Your hands tangle in his hair then down to the mounds and slopes of his muscular back and shoulders. There is a fire in his eyes, a look you’d never been lucky enough to witness before but had always dreamt of, a thirst that was going to be quenched tonight one way or another. Suddenly he lifts you from the ground, desperate to feel you tight against him. The scent of tobacco and wood smoke holds in the air around you as you wrap your legs around his waist. His lips trail across your cheek, down to your neck, peppering kisses under your ear as he pins you against the nearest cabin wall. You breathe a small moan, unable to resist grinding your hips against his, noticing the line of heat in his pants growing, spurring him on further as the pace shifts. His lips collide with yours laboriously as his touch heavies. Your fingers slip down his front, desperately working each of the buttons on his shirt, you manage to get two free when a hand supports himself on the wall behind you and stops to look at you, holding you effortlessly in one arm.

_‘We really doin’ this?’_

_‘Don’t you want to?’_

‘ _God, more than anything,_ _it’s just. It’s been a couple of years since…’_ he quickly glances down between your legs.

 _‘Want me to go slow?’_ you whisper, lacing your arms around his neck

 _‘I like slow’_ he smiles against your lips as he carries you over to the high bed. Perching you on its edge. He barely breaks the kiss between you as he lifts his shirt up over his head and chucks it to the floor. You swore the world had stopped spinning in that very moment. With wondering hands, you examine his broad hair-kissed chest, his stocky shoulders, and those muscular arms. You had seen Arthur in his union suit and jeans from time to time, with its thin cotton stretched over each muscle, pulling and twisting at his waist when he lumbered through camp. You dreaded those days for fear of staring too long or shying away from him like a lovesick teenager, but nothing could compare to the sight of him in front of you now. Each part of his perfect body was better than you could have ever imagined.

_‘Lay back for me’_

His rumbled order sets another spark of excitement as you feel your own gather between your legs. You follow his command as he works your blouse, freeing each button of the white linen before moving his lips down your body, kissing a trail from your collarbones to your navel. Loosening your arms, you throw the blouse away before making yourself comfortable on the plaid bedspread beneath you. His breathing hitches as he lays his eyes on the puckered skin of your breasts, brushing his palm along the soft outline, running a thumb over your nipple, inducing a small moan to rise and slip free from your throat. His hot, coarse fingers lightly trace a pattern from under your breast to the bullet scar on your right side, tip-toeing his fingertips around to the back of your hip to the exit wound, exactly where he remembers stitching it up over two years prior. He hadn’t forgotten about that night he found you, recalling a point in time when he barely knew you, to now where he knew you better than he knew himself. He looks over the scar with a smile before placing a kiss to the small patch of taut skin, thanking God for you stumbling into his life that day.

 _‘You’re so beautiful’_ he breathes

You watch every movement in tantalising anticipation as his warm hands smooth their way down your stomach stopping at your pants. A single fingertip slips just inside the waistband, running it side to side along the fabric slowly teasing, feeling the tickle of his fingertip brush against your skin. Your stomach flutters nervously, it had been years since feeling this close to someone. Sex in the past had always felt meaningless and fleeting. Past lovers were anything but lovers, merely men who promised you the world but would eventually take everything from you and leave you in the dirt. But you knew Arthur was different, albeit he could live up to his career of outlawing a little too well, but his morals were always just. To the people who know him best, he is kind and selfless with a heart of gold. He’d gladly take a bullet for his loved ones, as you would for him.

Arthur looks into your eyes, seeking permission to cross beyond the point of no return as his palm waits just under the waistband of your pants. He has the patience of a saint as you test him for a moment, seeing if he’d break and let lust get the better of him, but it doesn’t, instead he waits and with a kiss. In that second you realise this was the one and only time you had ever felt truly loved by a man. You smile, biting your lip in anticipation as you grant him silent approval. He unbuckles your pants, peeling the trousers from your legs and discarding them, when you suddenly remember the bloomers!

 _‘Jesus’_ Arthur stops, his eyes fixed to your crotch as his fingers drag up your thighs from your knees. _‘I ain’t never seen nothin’ like them before’_

_‘You like em’?’_

_‘I love em’_ he breathes, his thumb dipping under the silk, stroking at the crease where your thigh meets your hip. ‘ _They’re almost as pretty as you’_ He runs his hands over the soft silk, down the curve of your hips, kissing your abdomen as he slides the silk underwear down your thighs.

 _‘Fuck….darlin’_ he utters, feeling the ache between his legs grow as he lays his eyes over your bare skin ‘ _You’re perfect, you know that?’_ He lifts each leg, caressing from the ankle to the knee, leaving trails of kisses and feather light fingertip touches. Leaving no inch untouched by his lips. He teased you so entrancingly it left your centre pulsing. His large coarse hands spread wide to feel every inch of your inner thighs, mapping out every freckle and mole like a constellation. Suddenly Arthur hooks his elbows under your knees and pulls your hips to meet his at the edge of the bed. He lowers himself to his knees, bringing your legs over his shoulders.

 _‘Can I?’_ he breathes against your inner thigh

 _‘Please’_ you whimper, restless with anticipation. You feel the heat at your core as his hot breath falls on you. Softly running his lips along your inner thigh, peppering small soft kisses as his stubble grazes your folds, teasing you, building you up for what exhilarating and spellbinding pleasure was to come. Your hands ball into the bedspread beneath you with impatience when he plants a kiss, then with one long stroke, parts you with his tongue.

All you can muster is a small faint moan as his tongue caresses your centre. The growing heat at your core makes itself known under the surface with every little spark of pleasure. He tastes you and groans deep, _‘You taste so sweet darlin’_ returning his mouth to your aching centre. His hands squeeze your ass beneath you then release with intensity and rhythm as he works you, firm but gentle. A hand finds its way below to his downy hair, reminding yourself that this was real. That the man you loved was pleasuring you in such a way, you couldn’t see how you’d ever be the same again. Just like the vaults he was expert in cracking, he took his time exploring you. Taking direction from your signs of undoing, searching out your weak spots and working each one meticulously. Finding just the right combination, before unlocking you perfectly. He pushes your knees back, spreading the area wider for him to take more control as his lips lock around your centre and gently suck.

‘ _Arthur……fuck.…Uh yes!’_

It seems he had worked out your combination, watching as your head throws back into the plaid sheets of the bed. As his name utters louder from your moaning lips, Arthur’s pace quickens. Your thighs begin to tremble under the growing pleasure, trying desperately not to grid down. Feeling your weight shift in his hands, he flicks you a glance that could have beckoned the soul from your body, his eyes burn with lust and satisfaction as you feel a smile curl against your skin, soaking up the sight of you quivering for him. Fuck, you can’t take much more. You feel the swell of pleasure rising, each little flick and suck snowballing into a symphony of moans and whimpers. But you craved him inside you. To feel him fill you completely.

 _‘I need you inside me’_ you whisper with bated breath _‘Please’_

Goosebumps ripple over his body at your request, his blood racing as his hard and throbbing sex swells almost painfully, constricted by the fabric of his pants. He gives a final kiss to your centre before shimmying his jeans down his legs, when his hot line of heat springs free. You prop yourself up on your elbows as you take in the thick and lengthy sight. You had lost count of the times you had imagined him like this, standing before you fully exposed in another blissful dream. But to have him here, like this for real was indescribable.

Arthur kneels up on to the bed and crawls up your body, nestling himself between your legs. His body flush with yours as he lays over you, taking care not to rest all of his weight on you. Your plump breasts press tight to his chest as you wrap your arms around his neck. His stiff and aching sex pressed hot to your inner thigh. His thick muscular forearms plant themselves by your sides as you trace your hands over his chest, the hair gliding between your fingers. Taking a moment to appreciate this utter Adonis of a man. Everything about this moment feels right. Like you should have been doing this months ago.

Arthur looks at you for a moment, observing the way your hair falls around your face, the curve of your breasts, the slope of your hips and your ruby red lips as his thumb softly grazes across them, tasting the salt of his skin. For what feels like the first time in his life, Arthur felt loved completely.

 _‘I wanna make love to you’_ he whispers

 _‘Just like this?’_ you ask, cupping his cheek and kissing him as you bring your knees up around his lats.

A smile blooms across his face, playfully brushing the tip of his nose with yours in a loving caress before pushing inside of you. A groan slips free from his throat as he works your slick over himself, burying himself deeper. Wrapping your legs around his hips you both lay still for a moment, looking into each other’s eyes reminding yourselves that this was palpable. You both linger in the moment for a second, letting every sense and emotion flow over you both like a combined pulse, basking in the glow of finally being one together after years of waiting and wanting. He moves slow and easy as he drives his hips into you, reaching the peak of your walls then pulling out slow. The sensation was unlike anything you’d ever felt, pleasure and pain all at the same time, it made your fingers curl, biting crescents into his upper arms with a quiet gasp.

Arthur stops suddenly ‘ _Am I hurting you?’_

_‘No. Oh baby, you just feel so good’_

_‘I like the way you say that’_ he smirks

_‘What, Baby?’_

He hums a deep and satisfying tone _‘Yeah’_

He kisses you deeply before sinking himself into you fully. His hand reaches for yours above you, lacing his fingers with yours, his thick thighs bracketing your own as he feels your walls tight around him. Arthur breaks the kiss to let a moan slip free from his throat. The feeling of him inside you fully is overwhelming, the pleasure almost too much to handle. He looks to your face to see your brows furrowed as you breathe his name. The sound spurring him on, his hot lips press against your neck as he bucks into you slowly.

 _‘Uh baby….you’re too big for me’_ you whimper

 _‘Fuck._ _Say that again’_

_‘You’re too big for me’_

He kisses you forcefully, catching your moan in his mouth as your words unlock something inside him, shifting the pace up a gear he sits up on his knees and pulls you up into his lap, wrapping your legs around him as you straddle his thighs, the change in position pushes him deeper inside you as you sink yourself down onto him. Arthur’s arms wrap around your waist lovingly as you press yourself to him, closing the gap between you. His hands brush back your wild hair from around your shoulders and over your back as he kisses your neck. Grinding down hard into his lap, his hands grip your ass, pulling you down with each thrust. You had lost count of how many times you had uttered his name, whether it was your hands on him or his on you, everything around you blended together like the horizon and the sky. Unable to tell where one stopped and the other began. Somewhere else in time members of the gang were huddled around the fire, drinking into the night and sharing tall tales of whiskey and women. But tonight, away from the prying eyes of the home you both knew, you had found a new home in each other. You imagine their faces when they discover the reason for you both being MIA. A bolt of excitement dances through you at the thought; everybody going about their business, blissfully unaware while your bodies were making each other’s sing to a note neither of you could have re-written with anybody else but each other.

Arthur rests his forehead to yours tenderly, trying desperately not to let himself come undone just yet when he brings his hand to cup your cheek. He stares lovingly into your eyes, both of you connecting on more than just a physical level. You could have sworn your souls left your bodies for a split second, intertwining themselves together and discovering each other’s mysteries and secrets in the blink of an eye.

 _‘I love you darlin’_ he utters softly ‘ _I love you more than anything’_

 _’I love you too Arthur’_ you kiss him deeply before the pleasure becomes too much ‘ _Fuck.…baby….I’m so close’_

_‘Come for me sweetheart’_

His words alone are enough to make you come apart when you feel the pleasure at your core spill over. Your sweat covered bodies writhe as the wave of pleasure rises and hits hard, coursing through you like electricity. ‘Oh fuck, Arthur…baby… yes!’ Wrapping your arms around his shoulders for leverage your thighs tremble and buckle as you grind into his lap hard, riding out your pleasure for as long as possible. Arthur groans loud when your walls constrict around him, he kisses and sucks your nipples, so close to the brink now as he bucks and thrusts into you with abandon ‘ _Uh fuck…darlin, I’m comin’_ he snaps forward from the pressure of his release grunting and moaning before pulling out quickly and spilling himself over your thighs.

_‘Jesus…fuck, Christ.’_

_‘Damn’_

His sweat covered forehead rests on your chest as you both catch your breath. Still holding each other, your arms wrapped around his neck. Arthurs chest heaves against your own as your hand cups his cheek, kissing him deeply and sweeping his dripping hair from his face.

‘ _Are you sure it’s been a few years?’_ you chuckle _‘Cus it didn’t feel like it’_

‘ _Trust me, it has’_ he smiles _‘I ain’t one for Saloon girls, just ain’t my thing. There have been a couple of fumbled n drunken nights, waitresses here n there but ahhh, you don’t wanna hear this’_

‘ _No I do, go on’_

‘ _It just ain’t worth it unless it’s with someone you love I guess’_ he looks to you and smiles softly _._

 _‘As for these’_ he grins wide, scooping your lingerie up from the chair they had hooked themselves on ‘ _These nearly killed me. You wear bloomers like this all the time?’_

 _‘I didn’t, but I’m going to, seein’ as how you enjoyed em so much’_ you tease _‘I’m just glad I picked em up today’_

 _‘No you never! What, today?’_ he laughs ‘ _In Saint Denis?’_

 _‘Uh huh and they ain’t bloomers **, they’re lingerie** ’ _you patronise sarcastically

Arthurs arms wrap around your waist as he rumbles a deep and seductive tone _‘How’s about, the next time we’re here, we stop by Saint Denis again and we get you all the **lingerie** you could ever want? The thought of you walking around camp wearin em, knowing I’m the only person who knows just what you got on under them pants. Shit, it makes my heart race’_

_‘Next time huh? I'll hold ya to that’_

_‘You can hold me whichever way you like darlin’_

** Chapter Seven **

You gently slip off of him and fall back onto the bed in sheer ecstasy, still catching your breath as Arthur quickly jumps out of bed, looking around the cabin, rifling through one or two drawers before helping himself to a clean towel. With a kiss and a smile, he helps clean you up before picking up the cloth by its corner, booting the back door of the cabin open and throwing the cloth overboard.

_‘They ain’t gonna want that back’_

The door swings shut behind him, pushing a light breeze through the cabin, reliving it of some of its humidity and feeling the cool chill kiss your face leaving you craving the fresh air. The heat from the stove and the body heat from you both had completely steamed the small windows, the entire room practically dripped with condensation. Walking to a chest nearby Arthur opens it and pulls out two blankets. He walks back to you and throws the blanket around your shoulders, kissing your lips then wraps the other blanket around his waist.

 _‘Come with me’_ he says softly taking your hand. You cover yourself with the blanket as he swings open the door. The cool crisp air hits your face. The weather was still chilly, but the rain had completely stopped making way for a clear night sky. The sound of crickets chirping and toads croaking had returned to the lake. He leads you up a small wooden set of stairs to the covered veranda on top of the boat. Arthur makes himself comfortable on a small hammock in the corner of the veranda _‘Come here’_ he gestures, pulling you in with him and wrapping his arm around your waist, pulling you close as he throws his blanket over you both. Your still naked bodies press hot together under the blankets, your legs tangled together like kudzu vines. The feel of his skin on yours was warm, soft and comforting. Resting your head on his chest, you both look out across the green and chirping lake. Its lily pads rest soundly on its surface, the mist hovers and holds in the air above the water as the fireflies flutter and buzz around in a flurry through its transparent veil.

_‘You warm enough sweetheart?’_

_‘I’m perfect Arthur, thank you’_

‘ _That you are’_ he smiles before flipping over from his back, to face you _‘I meant what I said earlier you know?’_

_‘I did too, every word’_

_‘I don’t think I could keep doin’ this knowin’ we had to go back to the way things was, as friends? It’s just gonna be too hard’_

_‘Who said we have to?’_ you comfort him, tracing your fingers up and down his forearm. 

Arthur brings his hand to your hair, softly running his fingers through ‘ _Be mine?’_

A smile stretches itself from ear to ear, completely and utterly in love ‘ _Well, I dunno. An outlaw’s women?’_ you tease

‘ _I’ll look after ya good, n I’ll treat ya real nice’_ he smirks

_‘I dunno…its gonna take a lil more convincin’_

Arthur kisses you deeply ‘ _Now?’_

_‘Hmm maybe’_

‘ _Maybe!? You gonna make me beg women?’_ he asks flirtatiously before tracing his lips across your neck, kissing the spot under your ear he now knew made you weak.

You roll your eyes playfully _‘Uh OK then, as you’re so damn good at persuasion’_

Arthur beams, wrapping his arms tighter around you _‘I love you Y/N’_

_‘I love you too, Arthur Morgan’_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for taking the time to read The Winds of Change. I hope you enjoyed it! This work is part of a series that is currently all WIP. But at least 3 more stories will be added soon, so do check back! 
> 
> The Houseboat is also a real place in game, located on the map directly under the 'W' of Bluewater Marsh. If you're interested ;)


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